


Infinite Universe, But Only One You

by Wren_bird



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Adventures and Misadventures, Angst, Doomsday Foreshadowing, F/M, Getting Together, I made zero attempts to contain my Britishness, Journey's End Foreshadowing, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Takes place between The Girl In The Fireplace and Rise Of The Cybermen, The TARDIS being its crazy lovely self, They've been so married since day one let's face it, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wren_bird/pseuds/Wren_bird
Summary: There was so much to see, and so little time. In thirty years, Rose would be going grey. She probably wouldn’t be able to run long enough to go along with him on their journeys. The Doctor didn’t care about that, much. For her, he’d forfeit near-death experiences for tamer adventures. What truly scared him, what truly kept him awake at night, was that one day, she will die.A story in which the Doctor pines, Rose pines, angst keeps them apart, and the TARDIS is awesome (as always). The Doctor must decide, is it better to have love and lost, or to have never loved at all?
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Infinite Universe, But Only One You

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this fic for a while, and I'm very happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoy too!
> 
> (Takes place between The Girl In The Fireplace and Rise Of The Cybermen)

The universe is infinite — or at least, that was what Human scientists liked to say. The Doctor knew better, of course. For him, the end of the universe was just a hop, skip, and a jump away, and with all the luxuries the TARDIS had to offer. (Although, it did get horrendously draughty whenever they passed through the Kinrexian galaxy. He’d have to look into that.)

But it’s a tricky thing, the end of the universe. One wrong step, and you could end up caught in a temporal displacement field for all eternity. Or worse, marooned inside a nebula. It had happened before, mostly to inexperienced explorers who’d bitten off more than they could chew. 

That was what kept the Doctor away all this time. 

Well, he had seen the end of _time_ in the universe, but not the end of _space_. Two completely different things. 

Wouldn’t that be something, though? What would the barrier of reality look like? Even those who’d gotten close enough to catch a glimpse and had lived to tell the tale couldn’t articulate the wonder of it all. 

One day. One day, he’ll head out as far as the TARDIS can take him, just to look at its divine beauty. Maybe he’ll bring Rose with him. But, then, Jackie wouldn’t ever forgive him if Rose was lost in a nebula. He wouldn’t forgive himself, either. 

For now, the Doctor was perfectly content with taking Rose to places he’d already been, and some he hadn’t. He’d had lists going in his mind. So many lists of so many worlds. She’d love the non-gravity swimming pools of Abydos, and the spot-on Earth superstar impersonators on Dioscuros. 

There was so much to see, and so little time. In thirty years, Rose would be going grey. She probably wouldn’t be able to run long enough to go along with him on their journeys. The Doctor didn’t care about that, much. For her, he’d forfeit near-death experiences for tamer adventures. What truly scared him, what truly kept him awake at night, was that one day, she will die. 

One day, Rose Tyler will be dead, and he won’t. He’ll have to wander the galaxies without her for centuries. No one could ever replace her, nor will they have her spirit, her charm, or even just her smile. The Doctor couldn’t help but smile himself, when he thought of that cheeky grin of hers, eyes crinkling and tongue poking out. 

Then the Doctor decided that that was quite enough Thinking of Terrible Things for now. He checked over the console, and patted the coral pillar before heading out into the corridor. He passed the squash room, the pantry, a door he could have sworn was just a wall yesterday, a wall that he could have sworn was yellow only a moment ago, hoping that Rose’s bedroom hadn’t decided to move too deep into the TARDIS. 

Before long he spotted the familiar stickers — pink flowers, Union Jacks, the Spice Girls — on her door, and rapped twice with his knuckles before going in. 

“You could wait for a ‘come in’.” Rose was sitting on her bed, pulling socks onto her feet. 

“And where would I be in life, if I always waited for an invitation?” the Doctor smiled, and he could tell Rose knew he was trying to get a rise out of her. 

“Trouble. That’s where you’ll be, if you barge into my room again.”

“And here I thought you liked my company.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response. “Let me guess,” she eventually said. “The Queen’s in trouble, and we’re the only ones who can save her. Or… I know! You want me to make you some tea. Oh, don’t tell me you’ve lost the kettle again. You know I hate going to Lakeland.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind some tea,” the Doctor murmured. “But that’s not why I came by. Can’t a fellow just pop in for a chat with his best mate every now and then?”

Rose’s face fell, and the Doctor had to resist the temptation to slap himself across the cheek. He’d never called Rose his best mate before. 

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course you can,” Rose said gently. 

A moment passed in silence, then Rose tossed him the thin book that was sitting on her bedside table. The Doctor glanced down at the old and faded cover. _The Galactic Traveller’s Guidebook_. Well, the cover wasn’t _old_ , per se — the book wouldn't be printed until a couple of centuries after Rose’s birth. But it was old to the Doctor. Had seen him through his travels with Susan and Barbara and Ian. 

“Let’s go see Vortis,” she said. 

“Vortis?” the Doctor repeated incredulously. He flipped to the V section, looked down at the dark planet. “That barren rock? What in the world would make you want to go there? The brutal Animus invasion? Fancy a coup d’œil at the coup d’etat?”

“Not _now-Vortis_ ,” Rose replied, rolling her eyes. “Then-Vortis. It was supposed to be one big flower forest before the Animus nazis took over. It’d be like living in _Thumbelina_.”

“Alright, then, Thumbelina. Let’s go see then-Vortis.” 

Rose tugged on her boots, and the Doctor extended a hand to help her up. 

“Come on then, Tom Thumb,” Rose said as she walked out the door. 

* * *

The Doctor had never felt as though time were moving slowly. To him, time was as fractured as a dream. One moment you’re here, and then you’re seamlessly somewhere else. But as he watched Rose disappear behind a hill and come back with lilac stuck in her hair, he could have sworn he saw every muscle in her face move at a snail’s pace as she smiled and started to pluck the flowers out. Rose Tyler was the physical manifestation of life, tumultuous and vibrant. And there was nothing the Doctor loved more than life. 

He meandered over to her, and pulled one last lilac from her hair. “I wonder if they’ve got any roses here.”

Something in Rose’s smile twisted, and the Doctor knew he was in for a smartass response. “Sounds like something a lad might say to me at a pub. Not a galactic time traveler such as yourself.” There was that tongue-in-cheek expression that made him want to freeze that moment and hang it on the wall of the TARDIS. “ ‘Sides, wouldn’t that make me a cannibal, picking roses?”

“Well, only if you eat one,” the Doctor said. “And you already use rose by-products at every turn… puddings, face-creams, makeup. You, my friend, are a regular Hannibal Lecter.” 

“Well with a name like that…”

Rose looped her arm through the Doctor’s and they strolled down the worn dirt pathway.

“That flower over there looks like Magnum Ruby ice cream, doesn’t it? Ah, I love Magnum Ruby. It’s fruity, but smooth. Refreshing and comforting all rolled into one, isn’t it? Mind you, ice cream on a stick’s got nothing on the tubs. You should’ve been there when ice cream was first invented. I was hanging ‘round old Emperor Nero’s, having a chinwag with the kitchen staff, you know. They’d just had a shipment of ice, and there was all this wine and honey lying about… it was bound to be knocked over, hardly my fault. Well, that’s what I told Nero, but he didn’t lower that bloody sword ‘til I convinced him to have a taste.”

“Nero? That’s the bloke from _The Matrix_ , innit? The messiah-type guy?”

“Neo. Neo, not Nero. Oh, that Keanu Reeves. He’s brilliant! His day’s coming, I tell you. In the next couple decades you’ll be seeing a lot more of Keanu.” 

“Mmm, good,” Rose said. “I love him. That hair! It’s so… floppy. Floofy. Flippy?”

The Doctor brought his free hand to the back of his neck, and let his fingers brush against his own hair. “I’d say I’ve got some floppy-floofy-flippy hair, myself. Backcombing, you know.”

Rose stepped back, out of the Doctor’s hold, and said, “Yeah, look at that!” 

Then she buried both her hands in his hair. 

If anyone were to ask the Doctor, he would vehemently deny that he was capable of blushing. Time Lords, you know. Too upright for all that blushing business. Him? Blush? _Never_. And if anyone were to point out that his cheeks had turned a deep scarlet as Rose seemed to be fondling his floppy-floofy-flippy hair, he’d probably throw them a V while walking backwards into hell. 

Rose leaned away, but kept her hand in his hair, and pure adrenaline shot through the Doctor’s body, making both his hearts pound, as he realized she could tell he was not-blushing, could see his eyes gone wide and his pupils all dilated. Blimey, up that close, the Doctor could count all her eyelashes if he wanted to. (He did. She had one hundred and ninety-five on her left eye).

“Brilliant hair,” Rose said softly. Too softly, like she was afraid something would shatter if she spoke any louder. “I’m almost jealous.” She let her arm drop to her side. 

“Don’t be,” the Doctor said, just as softly. “Yours is even better.”

Six words. So much could be achieved in six words. In six words, he’d ended Harriet Jones’ career. In six words, he conveyed just how much he loved Rose Tyler. The way his voice had quavered, the way he’d stared at her, and the way she’d stared right back… They’d have understood each other, even if they were from opposite sides of the galaxy and didn’t have a translator. 

Then Rose leaned forward, ever so slightly. The Doctor’s hearts beat a furious rhythm. He was going to explode. He was going to just spontaneously combust if he stared into her eyes a moment longer. 

So he took hold of her arm, looped it through his, and they carried along the path. 

Neither one spoke for the longest time. The air between them was tense, ready to snap, and the Doctor kept a firm hold on Rose’s hand in hopes she would understand. _This isn’t a rejection. Just… a postponement. Possibly until forever._ Conversation returned slowly. Meaningless remarks, such as, “That flower’s pretty, over there,” or, “Oh, look, a butterfly”. By the time they’d meandered in a circle, back to the TARDIS, Rose was back to telling him about a job at a florist’s that she’d held down for all of three days. 

* * *

The Doctor and Rose went on pretending everything was fine for another fortnight. They smiled at each other, but it was too forced. They laughed at each other’s jokes, but too often and too loudly. And they never touched. Not without jumping away as though they’d been electrocuted. 

Looking back, the Doctor should have known that confrontation was inevitable. They’d both been keeping too much to themselves. They were a toy car that kept being wound and wound until it would eventually take off like a shot down the pavement. If he’d been in his right mind, he should have expected explosions and carnage. He should have expected bloody Pompeii. 

Since the Doctor indirectly declared his love for Rose, they’d been on one adventure (Vashta Nerada, Buckingham Palace, one of the Kennedy girls), and one holiday (an Edwardian yacht sailing through space), but it seemed as though nothing could dispel the tension. 

A hole had been burned into the Doctor’s favourite Tuesday shoes on their latest misadventure. He was in the TARDIS’ wardrobe, looking for a replacement when he heard footsteps on the stairs. 

“All right?” Rose said. She sat on the last step, and wrapped her arms around her legs. 

“Just… looking for a replacement. It’s here somewhere.”

“You mean you’ve got more than one pair of green Chuck Taylors?”

“ ‘Course I do. They’re my favourite Tuesday shoes.”

“Doctor…” 

The Doctor looked over at Rose, who was worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Then he promptly looked away from Rose, and settled on staring blankly at her forehead instead. 

“This is stupid, alright? What I’m about to say is stupid, I know it’s stupid, but I’ve got to say it, so if you could just ignore the stupid...ness.” She took a deep breath, and continued, “You — I — look, Doctor, I’ve had my fair share of fallouts and I know how it looks when things are about to get bad, and I… I want to know, I need you to tell me, are you getting tired of me? Is that why you’ve been so distant? Just, you know, figured I should ask, so I can pack my things before I get dropped round my mum’s, and—”

“I would never,” the Doctor interrupted, “ _ever_ get tired of you, Rose. Even — even if you’d had your vocal cords ripped out and couldn’t make a sound, I’d still find you completely fascinating. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid, for the foreseeable future!”

“Then why’ve you been so strange lately?” Rose asked. “Ever since Vortis, something’s been different, Doctor. And I need to know what, so we can fix it.”

The Doctor meant to exhale. He didn’t mean for his emotions to betray him, and for his breath to stutter as he did so, or for his eyes to start to sting. 

“Does it need saying?”

Rose jumped to her feet, her shoes clanging on the metal floor so loudly it made them both jump. “Yes, it bloody well does.”

The Doctor took a step forward, carefully, a sock on one foot, a shoe on the other. “Rose Tyler, I…” He stopped abruptly. Something embarrassingly close to a sob tried to force its way out of his throat, and he tried to swallow it back down. “I love you.”

Rose stepped closer still. There was that smile again, knowing and cheeky, the kind he wanted to freeze in time and hang on the TARDIS wall. 

“You know, you had me going for a minute there.” Rose draped her arms around the Doctor’s shoulders, and he put his hands to her hips, aware of every single one of their molecules that touched. “Thought I was gonna be out on my backside.”

“Never.”

“Good.” Rose was centimetres away from his lips, now. “ ‘Cause I love you too, you reserved scoundrel.”

The Doctor beamed at her. That was how they had their first proper kiss, both of them grinning too much to take it very far, squashed together in the oversized wardrobe. 

Of course, he was talking a million miles an hour when they pulled apart. 

“— got to understand, there might be a day when you’re sixty and I still look, oh, I don’t know, thirty? Or I could be a completely different man, one day to the next, but you already knew that, of course. And if I’m correct, although I’m not always with these sorts of things, that can be very off-putting, and—”

“The way I see it,” Rose interrupted, “is you’ve got two options. Either we can be together, and you’ll have to live without me someday, or we could stop it right now, but we’d have to live with that regret forever. Wouldn’t something that’s fleeting to you be better than nothing at all?”

The Doctor looked down, to where his hands still rested on Rose’s hips. Then he looked back up, to her flushed cheeks, and finally her eyes, which were searching his face. 

“Yes. It would be the most painful thing I’d have to endure, but… yes.”

Rose kissed him again. Deeper, longer. The feeling of his hands on her hips was instantaneously forgotten, and the Doctor began to wonder just how many ways he could express his love for her without having to say the words. 

“You know,” Rose whispered against his lips, “my mum’s gonna kill you.”


End file.
